


If It All Goes Wrong

by sunsetmog



Series: When The Sun Comes Up [1]
Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drunken Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 15:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: Nick smiles. "Best people," he says. "Best mates."Harry moves so that his elbow's touching Nick's. "Best mates," he echoes. "Best wedding."Or: it's Pixie and George's wedding in Mallorca, and the night's coming to an end.





	If It All Goes Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Who looks at this glorious picture and thinks, I know what this needs: more angst?
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> The answer is apparently: me. 
> 
> I'll also have you know that I have such a shitty headache that I had to go to bed twice whilst writing this, and right this second I am wearing one of those stupid self-adhesive cooling headache pad things stuck to my forehead so I am a) the epitome of cool and b) I've ruined that glorious picture by the addition of angst. SORRY.

It's half past two in the morning before Harry gets Nick by himself. It's still really warm, despite it being the middle of the night, and the music's going strong and the dance floor is full of people having the time of their life. 

Nick's outside on the terrace with a cigarette and a drink. 

"Good set earlier," Harry says, coming to lean over the railing next to Nick. 

Nick gives him an easy, drunk smile. "Thanks," he says. "What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you," Harry says. "What are you doing out here?"

"Being happy for my friends," Nick says. He nods back inside. "Been a good day, hasn't it?"

"The best." Harry pauses. He's got a drink in his hand but he's had just about enough. He's still not entirely certain what timezone he's in, or what he's doing out here with Nick. "I've hardly seen you."

Nick laughs at that. "You've seen me all day."

"Not by yourself," Harry persists. He's seen a lot of Nick when they've been surrounded by their friends. He probably shouldn't be doing this. He's too drunk and jet lagged for anything requiring any kind of brain power, and anything that's a difficult conversation for him and Nick requires brain power. 

Nick drops his head. He's resting his forearms on the railing, bent over, drink in his hand. "It's good that you came. It meant a lot to them, I think."

"It's good that we all came. We all would for them, right?"

Nick smiles. "Best people," he says. "Best mates."

Harry moves so that his elbow's touching Nick's. "Best mates," he echoes. "Best wedding."

Nick doesn't say anything to that. 

"How have you been?" Harry asks finally. 

"Good," Nick says, which is a nothing answer. "What about you?"

"Good," Harry says. "I had a dream where you were a giant and I was normal sized, or, I don't know, you were normal sized and I was, like, six inches tall or something, and I tried to give you a blowjob anyway."

Nick snorts. "What the fuck, Styles?"

"There was just a lot of licking," Harry says. It's quite dark out here, out in the corner of the terrace, vines climbing up the railings around him, just stripes of light and bits of music slipping out from the open doors. "Like a Fab lolly that never got smaller." 

"What are you doing, dreaming about giving blow jobs, anyway? And to giants?"

"I might have been tiny," Harry says. "You might have been normal sized."

"Still," Nick says. 

Harry shrugs a shoulder. "Think about them a lot," he says. "Think about you a lot."

"And my dick's a Fab lolly."

"Sometimes it's a Twister," Harry says. He waits. "Do you ever think about them? Blow jobs? And me?"

Nick doesn't say anything for a minute. "You're very drunk."

"So are you. Doesn't mean I don't dream about you when I'm sober."

"You don't tell me about them, though."

"No," Harry says. "Do you want to get out of here?"

Nick looks at him. "And go where?"

"Somewhere outside. Somewhere quiet."

"We've got both of those things here."

Harry tries to smile. "Somewhere quieter, then. Just you and me."

Nick knocks back the rest of his drink, and stubs out his cigarette. "All right."

Harry lets out a breath, and thinks, _yes_. 

They have to walk through the remains of the party to get to the exit, but they keep to the edges, Harry with his hands in his pockets, Nick swaying a little but staying by his side. They don't say anything until they're walking down the road. Nick seems to have an idea of where he's going, which is more than Harry does, so Harry lets him lead. 

"How's the promo going?" Nick asks, once they've left the closed up restaurants behind them and there's just the two of them wandering down the hill. 

"Good," Harry says, "but I don't want to talk about that."

"What do you want to talk about, then?"

"Don't know," Harry says. "You and me, maybe."

"Best friends," Nick says. "That's you and me."

"I dream about touching you."

"It'll be the cheese," Nick says sagely. "Stop eating cheese before bed."

"Don't you want to?"

"Want to what?"

"Touch me."

Nick stops then. It's dark, but the moon's full. In the distance, Harry can hear the sound of the sea. "Stop it," he says. 

"I'm trying to say something."

"You're trying to say you want me, it sounds like," Nick says. "You're trying to get me to tell you I want you back. Or maybe I'm just making it into that in my head because I want it. But we're leaving tomorrow. And I'll get home and you'll know what I want and I'll know I can't have it, and the only way that that doesn't fuck me up is because I don't fucking think about it. So don't make me."

"I think about you," Harry persists. _I want it_. 

"Harry—"

"Are we close to the sea?"

Nick lets out a breath. "Yeah," he says. "You want to see it?"

"Yeah," Harry says. "Yeah, I want to see it."

The sea comes out of nowhere, the road turning into sand. The tide's mostly in, and there's barely any sand. The moonlight glints off the gentle waves. 

"You want to paddle?" Harry asks. 

"It's not Morecombe," Nick says, but he's leaning over to undo his shoes anyway, and Harry follows suit, unlacing his shoes, rolling up his trouser legs, sticking his socks in his shoes. He carries them in one hand, waiting for Nick to straighten up, his own shoes in hand. "Happy?"

"Yeah," Harry says, and he smiles. "Love spending time with you."

"You're drunk," Nick says, but he doesn't look away. It's up to Harry to walk them to the edge of the water, to let the water lap over their toes. 

"Is there anyone?" Harry asks finally. 

"There's never anyone," Nick says, which is a lie, because Harry's seen Nick with enough guys over the years. "Anyway, I don’t do that anymore."

"Do what?"

"Think it's going to happen," Nick says. "Always a wedding guest, right? And it hurts too much when it fucks up and they don't want me like I want them. So, no, there isn’t anyone."

Harry lets the water lap over his feet and up to his ankles. "I want you."

Nick laughs. "Tonight you do," he says, "or you think you do. You won't tomorrow. It's okay. I like my hair how it is, all right? Got used to it again. No meltdown haircuts in my near future. Got it all planned out."

Harry's chest aches. "I've seen the way you look at me, you know. That picture from earlier. I saw it."

There's a pause. "So?" Nick says. "Doesn't matter how people look at you. Doesn't matter. It's you looking back that makes it a thing, and I'm not here for flying back tomorrow wishing I hadn't fucked things up by hoping. Cos it's not, is it? You tell me you want me tonight, in the morning it's just back to everything else. Normal. Except everything's different for me, and by Thursday I'm lopping all my hair off because I'm going mad wanting you. Again."

"If the world was perfect, though," Harry says softly. "If it was perfect, how would it be?"

Nick makes a little noise in the back of his throat. "It would be you and me, wouldn't it? You and me, getting married like this. Stupid suits and Canary Island weddings. You and me being drunk and in love. But you can't build a life off of dreams. That's bollocks."

"Why not, though? You and me, right? We're both living our dreams. Why not this one as well?"

Nick walks through the water until he's a few paces away from Harry. "I don't know what you're asking me," he says finally. "I don't know what it is you want."

"This," Harry says, after a moment. "Today, but for me and you."

"Christ," Nick says. "First you're dreaming about blowing a giant, then you're talking about weddings. You're offering me, like, one night, and you're going to be taking a whole fucking lot more."

"I was dreaming about blowing you," Harry says. "And I'm offering you more than just tonight."

Nick shakes his head. "Don't," he says. "Don't do this to me."

"I love you," Harry says. "I'm in love with you."

"You're drunk."

"And in love."

"It's not going to happen," Nick says. He shakes his head again, walking out of the water and sitting down on the sand a metre or so up the beach. "You won't be in love with me tomorrow."

"I will, you know." Harry kicks at the water a little; it splashes its way up the sand. He wanders up the beach too, dropping his shoes down next to Nick's. He puts his phone and his hotel room key in one of the shoes too, taking off his jacket and dropping it on top of their shoes. He's only got the two bottom buttons of his shirt done up, and taking off his jacket has pulled one of the sleeves over his shoulder. 

"Getting your tits out for the lads," Nick says. His voice shakes a bit. 

"For a lad," Harry agrees. "For you." He pauses. "Is it helping?"

Nick gets his phone out of his back pocket and stuffs it in one of his shoes. "Sometimes I look at you and I see the whole thing, you know? Years. Forward and back. You smiling at me. You wanting me the way I want you."

"I do—"

"But tomorrow you're going to go back to promo and then your film and a world tour and everything else. You've got space in your life for a mate. You haven't for, like, what I want."

Harry sits down on the sand next to him. He digs his toes into the sand. Rests his cheek against Nick's shoulder. "So it’s a no, then?"

Nick doesn't say anything to that. Not for a minute. "I wish it was a yes," he says finally. He rests his cheek against the top of Harry's head. He smells warm and a bit a sweaty. Harry wants to press closer. 

"In a perfect world," Harry says. "What would it take to make it a yes?"

Nick doesn't say anything. He lets out a breath. It ruffles Harry's hair. "Harry."

"You were so happy today," Harry says. "I look at you and I feel alive. I want to be where you are."

"I need—" Nick stops. "I need to be someone's priority. Seeing me, being with me, it has to be a priority. And I fucking love you, but I'm not your priority."

Harry closes his eyes. 

"I want a future," Nick goes on. "Present's all well and good, and like, looking at you, being with you, it's the best fucking thing I can imagine. But, like, being a godfather isn't going to be enough for me. So I can't. I can't give you one night that's going to fuck me up for months."

"I've been living out of LA a lot," Harry says softly. "Just, I don't know, that's kind of been my base. But it's not going to be anymore. I'm going to be in London."

"Since when?"

"Since I decided I was going to fight for you."

Nick goes still. 

"I chose you," Harry says, without waiting for Nick to say anything. "I chose you. I choose you."

"For what, though."

"For everything," Harry says. His hands shake. "For like, this to be what we aim for."

"Getting a soggy arse on a beach in the middle of the night, drunk," Nick says, like Nick always does because he wants to lighten the mood. 

Harry shakes his head. "Marrying the person you love," he says instead, insistent. "In front of the people you love."

"Sounds a bit like a proposal to me." Nick sounds uncertain, drunk and unsure. 

Harry lifts his head, shifting a little so that he can see Nick's face in the moonlight. "Would you say yes if it was?"

"We haven't even—" Nick looks worried, and Harry loves him, he loves him so much he'll turn his life upside down just to fit Nick in, so he touches his mouth to the corner of Nick's. 

He sits back down a moment later. "Consider it a placeholder," he says finally. "Cos I would, you know. Marry you."

"You probably can't be a gay pop star," Nick says. 

Harry huffs a laugh. "I already am," he says. "They just don't know it yet. And it's bi. I'm a bisexual pop star. That doesn't change just because people don't know it yet."

"Why are you doing this? Why now?"

"Dunno," Harry says. "I've waited too long. Because I saw that picture of us earlier and you looked so happy and I felt so happy and I just thought… I don't want to wait any longer to try and feel like that again." He rests his fingers against Nick's knee. "I want to look at you and feel that happy whenever I want."

Nick closes his eyes. The waves splash gently against the shore. Harry digs his toes into the sand. 

"I love you," Harry says again, in case it helps. 

"Fuck it. You're going to go tomorrow and it won't matter. If I say no to you or yes to you, I'll still feel like this." 

Harry goes still. "Nick—"

Nick cups Harry's face in his hands. They're a little sandy. His thumbs brush Harry's cheeks. He smells like booze this close up. "Don't do this to me if you know you're going to cut and run," he says. "One last chance, Styles. I'll still be your mate."

Harry shakes his head. "I want this."

Nick's hands are trembling. "I love you," he says, "I really hate how much I love you." Then his mouth's on Harry's, and he's kissing Harry, and Harry's kissing back. 

He kisses him over and over, Harry hooking his leg over Nick's, pulling him closer. He kisses him again, Harry chasing the taste of Nick's rum cocktails, fingers in Nick's hair. 

It's the middle of the night and the tide's still coming in, lapping against their toes, and all Harry wants is to lay Nick out against the sand and make him believe he's going to stay. 

But then it's Nick pulling them down onto the sand, shoving their shoes and Harry's jacket a bit further up the beach before coming back to kiss Harry again, sand going everywhere, Nick's hands curving over Harry's arse and into the small of his back. Harry responds in kind, hands under Nick's shirt. He pulls too hard and a button pops off. 

"Hey," Nick says. "This isn't going to turn into the end of _Kevin and Perry Go Large_ , is it?"

"What?"

Nick pulls away. "Before your time," he says. He lays back on the sand. Harry stays sitting over him, stroking his thumb over Nick's bared belly. 

"I know you don't believe me, but I mean it, you know. About a future. About wanting it for me and you."

"All right," Nick says. It doesn't sound like he believes it. 

"At least let me try and make you believe it. Give me that chance."

"Harry—"

"I want to blow you," Harry says. "Been dreaming about it, haven't I?"

"You dreamed I was a giant."

"Or I was just small. I don't know. Can I? Blow you?"

It feels like an awfully long time before Nick says _yes_. 

They fumble together to get Nick's trousers unbuttoned, and his pants down to his thighs. 

"Christ, I've got my knob out in Mallorca," Nick says, but Harry's not paying any attention. 

He wraps his fist around Nick's dick, stroking him to full hardness before he leans in to give him a quick lick. It's not quite Jack and the Beanstalk but at least this way he can take most of him in, and Nick groans beneath him as he sucks him off. 

"I'm absolutely getting sand in my crack," Nick goes on. "I'll be finding that there a week from Tuesday."

Harry sits back on his heels. "Good. Want you to remember," he says, before ducking in again to give Nick head. This time, Nick's hands find their way into Harry's hair, and Harry's sloppy and enthusiastic and Nick's loud and likes it. 

The waves lap against Harry's feet and the sand's cold and hard against his knees, but Nick's a heavy, turned on weight in his mouth and Harry loves him. He loves him. He doesn't know how he's going to make this work, how he's going to make Nick trust in a future he's got no idea how to craft, but he wants to. He wants to. 

"Going to come," Nick says finally, breathlessly, when Harry's jaw has started to ache and his wet feet have started to make him feel weird. He shoves at Harry's shoulders. "Harry, going to come."

Harry backs off, his fist still wrapped around the root of Nick's dick, and it doesn't take more than a couple of tugs for Nick to be coming all over the sand. 

Nick covers his face with his hand, and Harry ducks back in to lick Nick clean. He tucks him up into his pants, then lays down on the sand next to him with his toes in the water, and unbuttons his trousers. 

"What are you doing?" Nick asks. 

"Having a wank in Mallorca," Harry says, feeling a little more drunk than he has been doing as he shoves his trousers and pants down. "Next to the man I love."

"Christ," Nick says, and he reaches over and wraps his long fingers around Harry's dick. There's sand everywhere, and it's cold and gritty and having any kind of sex on a beach turns out to be a fairly weird experience, but he'll go with it. 

"Afterwards," Harry says, even as he's cupping the back of Nick's head and pulling him in closer, "come back to my hotel room. We'll drink wine and watch the sun come up."

Nick kisses him then, kisses him as he wanks Harry off, and Harry rocks up into his fist and tries to pull Nick closer as he comes. 

~*~

The sun is showing signs of trying to rise by the time they walk back towards the hotel. Harry has his jacket over his shoulder and his shirt completely undone, he's barefoot even though Nick's tried to shove his feet back inside his shoes, sand everywhere. 

They don't touch. 

"You okay?" Harry asks. 

"Kind of," Nick says. "Just, you know. Don't want you to go."

"I'm coming back, though. To London. To you."

"Yeah," Nick says, and Harry can hear the hesitancy. "Did you mean all that? About, like, a future and stuff. Cos I know you're still drunk."

"We're both drunk," Harry says. "Doesn't mean I don't love you."

"You talked about getting married."

"Yeah," Harry says. "And I think we should talk about that again."

"Now?"

"No, not now." The hotel's coming into view and they both look a right state. "When we're sober."

"You won't be here when you're sober."

"Neither will you," Harry says. "But I'm coming home to you."

Nick lets out a breath. "Harry—"

"Come upstairs and watch the sunrise with me," Harry says. "We'll open the balcony windows and drink wine and fall asleep in my bed."

"Sounds nice," Nick says, "but we'll get sand everywhere."

"Good," Harry says, and holds out his hand. "That way we won't forget."

Nick stares at him. 

"I love you," Harry says. "Come upstairs to bed with me."

Maybe it'll work and maybe it won't. Maybe Nick will start to believe he means it, and maybe he won't. Right now, it doesn't matter. 

Nick takes his hand, and they go inside and up to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](http://magicalrocketships.tumblr.com/post/161968064503/fic-if-it-all-goes-wrong-nickharry).


End file.
